How Quick The Sun Can Drop Away
by loki-laufeyson-of-asgard
Summary: Lloyd meets Nadine and isn't fond of the idea of Flagg's marriage. Continuation of the scene in the novel.


"Lloyd, I'd like you to meet my wife, Nadine Cross."

Lloyd was sure he'd heard wrong. He stood facing the two of them—Flagg with his hat pulled down as usual, leaving his face cast in shadow, and Nadine, white-haired and dead-eyed. Her hands were twisting in her lap and Lloyd looked away, towards Flagg. Beneath the brim of his hat his eyes gleamed like twin suns.

"Your—" Lloyd cleared his throat. "Your wife?"

"Yes." Flagg tilted his head—Lloyd couldn't see his full expression, but his mouth was smiling. "We consummated the marriage only last night after—what was it, darling? Thirty-five years of waiting?" He squeezed her shoulder and her hands went briefly still in her lap before resuming the constant rubbing, flexing motion.

"That's," Lloyd started, and found he could not really continue. "That's a long time," he said finally, a little hoarse.

Flagg was watching the side of her face. "Isn't it," he murmured. He sounded mutedly joyful, as though he couldn't quite believe he had Nadine with him, and it twisted something hard in Lloyd's stomach. He cleared his throat again; he started:

"I have to—" but Flagg held up a hand.

"Just a minute, Lloyd," he said. "I haven't finished sharing my good news with you. Don't you want to hear the rest of my good news?"

"Uh," said Lloyd. "Sure."

Flagg glanced at him. His expression was still mostly hidden, but his mouth was twisted down in one corner with what Lloyd could only assume was amusement. What was amusing about this situation, Lloyd had no idea. There was a specific burning sensation in his chest building up and he kind of wanted to scream and he kind of wanted to throw the tiny figurines that lined the shelves behind Flagg's desk.

"I'm also going to be a father," Flagg said.

Something crashed in Lloyd's head. He glanced at Nadine. Her hands like pipe cleaner in her lap, her shocking hair falling over her breasts.

"You—" He swallowed; he couldn't focus. "You're sure?"

Because he couldn't see Flagg's face he couldn't tell how dangerous or stupid a question it was. But Flagg's voice was still light and amused when he said:

"It only takes one good fuck, Lloyd."

"Right," Lloyd said. The urge to scream was growing. "Uh—congratulations." The word tasted sour in his throat.

"Thank you," Flagg said, mouth twitching. He squeezed Nadine's arm again and again Lloyd saw her hands stiffen. "Thank him, dearest, light of my life—we must remember our manners." He laughed a little; it was like weasels screaming during a kill. "Or else what will we teach our son when he comes into the world?"

"Thank you," Nadine mumbled to her lap. Her voice sounded like static on a television. On his chest Lloyd's stone was heavy, and too cold. He fought with the urge to take it in his hand, to stroke the flaw for comfort as he used to do.

"Was," Lloyd began. "Was that all you wanted me here for?"

Flagg lifted a hand—the one not around Nadine's shoulders. He pushed up the brim of his hat. For the first time Lloyd could see his face and he wished Flagg had kept it in shadow. He didn't look like himself. It was not precisely that his features had changed—Lloyd knew on some level Flagg appeared a little differently to everyone, and Lloyd had always seen him with a hooked, narrow nose and this very specific shape about his jawline, and his eyes which of course were the same shade of red as the flaw in the stone. It was more—he looked unhappy. Perhaps even uncertain. It was the same look Lloyd had seen on his face the last time they'd discussed the mystery third spy from the Free Zone. It was a look verging on loss of control. Lloyd was not especially eager to revisit loss of control with Flagg. He couldn't quite forget the unsettled feeling when he'd glanced over and seen Flagg hovering over his own desk. But the expression was there now. The good cheer in Flagg's voice and the smile notwithstanding. Something was wrong, and Lloyd's chest felt even sicker at the idea that he did not know what it was.

Flagg said, "I mean, I'd also like a progress report—if that's not too much _effort _for you, Lloyd," and there was enough bite in his voice Lloyd was deterred from even thinking the question he wanted to ask. He gave the progress report instead, and then, with an effort, he told Flagg about the retard. It went about as well as Lloyd had expected. Afterwards, his neck twinging, he made his way to the door, glad to finally be facing away from Nadine and her thousand-yard stare. He was nearly out when Flagg called:

"Just a minute, Lloyd." To Nadine: "My love, will you go wait for me in another room?"

There was silence. She must have said something Lloyd didn't hear—perhaps they communicate telepathically, whispered a hateful voice in his brain which sounded kind of like Poke—because Flagg said, a little impatiently, "Just pick one, all right? I'll be along shortly." Lloyd heard footsteps, shuffling and uncertain, and then the click of a door.

He stayed where he was. Things were shifting inside him with tectonic violence. He'd somewhat quelled the urge to scream a few minutes ago but there was still that burning, restless energy boiling in his chest. He was angry, and he didn't understand why. His fist kept clenching at his side. The stone was freezing.

He heard the tread of boot heels on the carpet. Flagg's warmth preceded him.

"Lloyd," he said, voice closer than Lloyd had expected, and then he set one blistering hand on Lloyd's shoulder.

"_What," _Lloyd snarled, spinning around. "What do you _want, _Flagg. You've already—fuck. You've pulled everything else out. You've got me for good, whatever the fuck else happens, even if you won't tell me anything, even if I'm the only loyal one. I'm here and I'm not going anywhere and you don't need anything else. What do you _want?"_

Flagg's head was tilted. In very specific lighting his eyes looked almost brown, because of the golden hue within the crimson. It was a trick to make him seem human. Lloyd hated it. He hated everything about him. His fist was still clenched very tightly and he couldn't stop seeing the curve of Flagg's hand against Nadine's shoulder. He couldn't stop hearing the way he'd said _my wife, Nadine. _Flagg still looked like something was desperately wrong, and Lloyd hated that, too.

"You've got a _wife," _he spit out—he was trembling, he didn't know when he'd started. "You're married now, and I—"

He didn't really know what he was going to say next. The idea of saying something like that to Randall Flagg seemed impossible, and suicidal, and anyway Lloyd was sure it wasn't what he meant. But Flagg's head was still tilted, and there was still that horrible uncertainty in his eyes. His gaze dropped to Lloyd's mouth and when Lloyd said _married, _Flagg said:

"Ah," like he'd just figured something out, and then he kissed him.

What, Lloyd tried to say into Flagg's mouth, but it felt better to just keep kissing him. Flagg's hands were very firm and his body was a single line of coiled tension and Lloyd was angry, still, enough to break something, so he took hold of Flagg's hair and tugged. Flagg made an unexpected sound and then Lloyd was on the floor. Then Flagg's hands were on his pants. Then his teeth were on his throat.

"What," Lloyd groaned, head tilted back, breathing erratically, as Flagg thrust against him—they hadn't had the patience to take off their shorts, and neither of them was going to last very long, or at least Lloyd wasn't, not with desire spiking in him the way it was, arousal and anger and hatred and whatever else mixing together dangerously in his spine and between his legs. He could feel Flagg shaking against him and thought perhaps it wasn't so much different for him, either.

Flagg just looked at him—his mouth bitten in and spit-slick. He looked amused, pushing Lloyd's hair off his face.

"Don't ask stupid questions, Lloyd," he said, and Lloyd came. One hand he dug into the carpet. The other he dug into Flagg's skin. There was something in him, racing towards inevitability.

Five hours later, Nadine Cross killed herself. Flagg was hovering half an inch off the ground when Lloyd came to him, feeling shaky. The sun was setting over the Nevada desert.

"I'm sorry," Lloyd said.

"Don't lie," Flagg said. He glanced over his shoulder and there was nothing particularly dangerous about his face so Lloyd walked forward. He walked until they were shoulder to shoulder. Flagg lowered himself to the ground. His face was burnished gold in the sun. Their knuckles brushed; it could have been an accident, but Lloyd knew it wasn't. They stood watching the sun set until Lloyd began shivering from the desert night air, and then Flagg turned him, and they walked inside together. Out in the far distance Lloyd heard a wolf howl, and then Flagg's mouth was in his hair.

"Don't you dare leave," he said.

Lloyd exhaled. Closed his eyes.

"You know I won't."


End file.
